


Senses Working Overtime

by Alphekka



Category: Deadpool (Movieverse), Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Bottom Peter Parker, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Peter is 24 in this, Prophetic Dreams, Synesthesia, Top Wade Wilson, ratings are for future chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-05 03:23:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17317148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alphekka/pseuds/Alphekka
Summary: Two years after graduating ESU Peter Parker is now living his typical penniless life in New York. Editing the science column at the Daily Bugle by day, and swinging through the skyline as the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man by night keeps him busy. Yet once his dreams start becoming reality, Peter finds himself face to face with Wade Wilson. A man who strikes a cord with his elevated senses. Peter falls fully and deeply into Wade......and then he meets Deadpool. Which complicates things far more than Peter could have ever expected.





	1. Have you any dreams you’d like to sell?

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if there are any grammar mistakes, I wrote this in about a day haha. The title is very similar to my other fic so I'm sorry for not being as creative as I want to be with this. I'll be updating my other fic next and if you guys like this concept I'll continue with it! I have a few ideas in mind for this story. Thanks for reading <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All characters are owned by Marvel Comics.

 

Peter doesn’t nearly enjoy walking through the streets of New York as much as he enjoys webbing through it’s skyline. The smells, colors, and sounds of the streets are constantly in a state of change. Always masking over the old.

Of course, growing up in New York makes it easier for him to adjust to the ever changing pattern. Even when a radioactive spider decided to take a nip at Peter’s neck, the elevated noises and smells of the already busy city didn’t take too much of a toll on his mind. He soon became accustomed to those heightened senses. It might have just been because of the environment he’s grown up in, or it could have helped that he’s always been in tune to his senses.

To a degree, everyone is actually. Certain letters of the alphabet can bring certain colors to mind, and certain songs can also bring certain colors to mind. Maybe that woman who just shoved aggressively past Peter to wave down a cab sees lilac when she listens to Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. Maybe the guy selling falafel on the sidewalk always pictures the number ‘4’ as a light green. Everyone experiences this in some way. For Peter, it’s more of a cross-wiring between all of his senses. The technical term is synesthesia, but after lots of research and experiments on himself, he still doesn’t know how to fully explain it. Everyone who has it experiences something peculiar to themselves.

When Peter is with Ned he smells rosemary. When Peter is with MJ his mouth fills with the taste of salted caramel. When he hugs Aunt May, he doesn’t _think_ sunshine yellow he _sees_ sunshine yellow. It’s outside of the mind’s perception. That’s okay though. It doesn’t really affect his daily life in any negative way. More importantly, it doesn’t affect his crime fighting hobby. After graduating from ESU with a biophysics degree, Peter was lucky enough to still live in New York, even with the crippling debt of a kid straight out of college. Thankfully it isn’t a very deep debt since he got a hefty scholarship from Midtown High. Yet it’s still enough to keep him broke, like always.

Peter fumbled through his pockets for the keys to his micro apartment as he walked into the building. Stumbling up the stairs and unlocking the door, he barely shut it before he face planted right onto his bed. Hitting his head on the pillow always invokes a faint scent of lavender to him. That’s one good thing about having your bedroom, kitchen, and living room all composed into one space. It means you only have to take five steps from the door to fall right onto your bed.

Flipping around Peter glanced over at his desk, mocking him with it’s piles of papers and open books. With a groan, he flipped right back onto his face, as if the papers will fold themselves into little airplanes, and shoot out of his window, disappearing from his sight the minute he flips around again. Of course, when he peeked up from his pillow, the papers were still there waiting on him. With another groan, he got up and made his way to the fridge for the half eaten sandwich he squirreled away for this very moment. Grabbing it from the fridge, he purposely ignored the desk and walked out onto his little juliet balcony.

Munching on the sandwich, he thought about what to do with that ridiculous article he has to edit for the Daily Bugle. Yes, after many years of interning as a freelance photographer for the Daily Bugle in both  high school and college, Peter has finally landed a job that relates to his studies. As the science editor, he actually feels like he didn’t waste all of that money in college. It took a while to get to this point though. The stress of keeping his identity a secret while also patrolling everyday made it impossible for Peter to get an apartment with roommates. Which really would have saved him a few dollars.

Yet it all turned out to be worth it. Having his own little space where he can still look out at the twinkling lights of the city made it all better. Sighing, Peter went back into the apartment to knock out a few pages to an article titled, “Uranus Smells Like Rotten Eggs,” which discusses how the atmosphere in Uranus smells exactly like rotten eggs. Lovely. The guy who wrote this definitely didn’t care for Peter’s position. He went to work for a few hours before passing out right on top of a freshly marked sentence.

⧫ ⧫ ⧫

Looking around, Peter found himself standing in a coffee shop, writing his name down on a slip of paper. The unfamiliar building he was in had a warm feel to it, complete with a fully wooden interior and low hanging light fixtures. He could faintly hear Paul Anka’s, “Put Your Head On My Shoulder,” playing in the background. Looking back at the slip of paper in his hand, Peter glanced over the details. It was a contest. Whoever guesses how many coffee grounds are in the jar gets free coffee for a whole year.  Of course it would make sense that a guy like Peter would jump at a chance to get his caffeine intake for free. For a whole _year._

Holding his heavily creamed coffee in one hand, he used the other to scribble in the number 2,636 before feeling a tingle on his back. Something was telling his to turn around, and quickly.

Whipping around, Peter completely forgot about the coffee he was holding in his right hand and subsequently spilled the contents right onto the man behind him. He heard a hiss and an explicit come from the stranger right before he frantically began waving his hands around the man and stuttering out his apology, never looking up from the growing stain on the guy’s grey hoodie.

“Oh my god! I am so so sorry I--”

With one glance up at the stranger, Peter immediately choked on his words as he felt the immense flood of sensation overwhelm his senses. Flashes of forest green crossed over his vision, he could smell a strong scent of gunpowder and pine, and he could _feel_ something all around him like an aura. It felt like someone was crushing Peter to their chest, protecting him. Comforting him. The pressure built and built as he gazed into warm hazel pools, growing and growing as the stranger lifted his hand to grasp Peter’s shoulder until--

He woke up.

He woke up?

Blinking his eyes open, Peter lifted up his head to see that he had fallen asleep at his desk. _That dream was so vivid_ , he thought. It was far different from his usual ‘showing up to work naked’ dreams. It felt like he was actually in that coffee shop, and the man that he spilled coffee on seemed so _real._ He’s never experienced senses through his dreams, he didn’t even think that was possible.

Stretching out his arms, several joints popped after being stuck in his awkward sleeping position, and a nasty knot on his neck painfully stretched as he rubbed at it. Looking over at the sunlight streaming in from the window, he already knew he was going to be severely disappointed at the time once he gathers up the courage to check his phone. After grabbing it off of the desk and tapping at the screen, Peter was more than disappointed, he was panicking. He only had five minutes before he had to get his ass out the door.

Throwing on some jeans, and a white button up with a light blue sweater over it, he ran his hands over his hair and took just enough time to brush his teeth and gather his papers into his leather bag before racing out the door.  

Back on the streets, he took a quick detour hoping it would give him enough time to grab a quick breakfast before getting to his job. Rushing through the streets, he got many glares and shouts before he made up enough time to stop for something. With his hair curled up in every direction and a little bit of sweat gathering at the top of his shirt, he slowed down to catch his breath. He looked around for a cafe before completely halting in his steps. Over to his left, the very coffee shop from his embarrassing dream was right there.

The _exact_ same coffee shop that he knows he has never been to outside of that dream.

 _Alright,_ Peter thought, _I’m just being silly. It’s definitely possible that my subconscious picked up on this shop in the past and I just didn’t realized it_. Looking more closely at the shop, the outside had intricate black details surrounding a heavy wooden door. The windows outside of the black detailing were tall and bare, except for one poster. Stepping up to the shop, Peter could see that it was for a contest.

A contest about guessing how many coffee grounds are in a jar. Winner gets free coffee for a year. Just like his dream.

_Okay, don’t freak out. This is probably another thing my subconscious has picked up on and I should just go in and enter the contest because I am too much of a broke bitch to let some weird coincidence stop me from getting free coffee for a whole year._

Not letting his dream get in the way of his caffeine addiction, Peter walked right in and up to the counter. He placed his order and decided to glance around the shop, even as a part of him already knew what he was going to see, and that part of him ended up being right. Everything was exactly like his dream, from the light fixtures to the song playing in the background.

Peter was shocked out of his musings as the barista placed his coffee down next to him. Grabbing at the coffee, he poured in way too much creamer with his hands shaking and let his mind drift away from the odd situation to grab at the pen next to the jar. Barely glancing at the jar, he wrote in the same number from his dream when he felt the tingle.

Except that might not be the right word for the absolute shock he felt race up his spine.

It was as if a lightning bolt had struck him, fizzing out any common sense Peter may have had in that moment; and with a feeling that some divine intervention was coming into play, he had what he could only describe as an out of body experience.

He watched himself whip around and tilt his hand downward, spilling his coffee right onto the very same grey hoodie he had just seen hours ago. Onto the very same stranger he had just seen hours ago.

The only thing Peter could do at this point was freak out.

Waving his hands around the man and _oh god he’s cursing this is going to end terribly,_ Peter forgot all about how he should have seen this coming and tried his hardest to stop himself from looking into the man’s eyes.

“Oh no, oh no, no, no, I-I knew this was going to happen and I did nothing to stop it why am I so stupid! Oh god I am so, so sorry I can get this out hold on a sec--”

_Don’t look up. Don’t look up. Don’t look up._

He kept running that phrase over and over in his mind as he continued apologizing. That all went out the window when he saw the man raise his hand up to Peter’s chin. In that very moment Peter ignored every sign that told him not to look up.

As the scarred hand gently raised his chin up, Peter felt helpless to fate.

The second his eyes touched the man’s face, it happened.

The flood that he felt in his dream was nothing compared to the ferocious storm that hit him as he gazed into the man’s eyes. Everything narrowed to a pinpoint. He couldn’t look away from his piercing gaze as all of his senses went wild. The forest green was encompassing everything. The overwhelming smells of gunpowder and pine, which shouldn’t go together but just felt _right_ , were sneaking into every breath Peter took. It was exhilarating, yet nothing compared to the all surrounding touch he felt gazing into his hazel eyes.

From his close proximity he could see the thin lines of gold circling around the man’s amber irises, too many details to grasp at once. Searching around he noticed that he had scars running all across his face, little dips and lines. He had an experienced face, one that looked like he was a seriously handsome guy that got beat up one too many times. This was all noticed by Peter in a span of three seconds, yet it felt like a lifetime has past since he spilled the coffee on the man. Peter couldn’t look away as the pressure from the man’s presence wrapped around his chest, pressing and building into the warmest touch. That’s when the man spoke.

“It’s okay baby boy, these things happen. But I gotta say, if you stand here apologizing any longer you might be late to whatever had you rushing like that.”

His voice was gentle, yet it held a bit of a rasp to it as he looked down at Peter with a smirk on his face. It was as if he knew how much their little interaction had affected him.

If only he really knew just how much he was affecting Peter.

Peter took a deep breath and finally got a hold of himself. He rapidly checked his pockets for some cash and found a five. Gathering his courage, he grabbed the man’s hand and forcefully place the money into his open palm. “Here, your coffee is on me. I’m really sorry once again and I hope that stain can come out. I-I got to go,” he turned to leave and was just reaching the door when he felt a hand grab his shoulder.

“Wait just one second.”

Peter turned around to see the man scribbling something down on one of the slips of paper. When he was finished he turned back to Peter and pushed the slip of paper and the money back into his hands.

“Now I may be taking a leap of faith here but from the way you were gazing at me like I was Brad Pitt going through a good hair phase makes me assume that if I give you my number you’ll shoot me a text. That’s how you can repay me. But there’s no pressure. I’ll just show up on your doorstep either way,” he said with a wink. 

Peter sputtered in disbelief, yet still clenched the paper into his fist.

“I was not! I-I was just thinking that I was going to meet my maker after dumping my coffee all over you. Yeah. Totally.”

The man let out a laugh, “Okay, whatever you say baby boy. Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

Peter could feel his cheeks start to redden from the nickname, and before he could make another embarrassing mistake he raced out of the shop, ignoring the feeling of eyes following his every move.

With his heart pounding and blood rushing to his ears, Peter raced through the streets to make it on time to work, trying to distract his mind from what just happened. He didn’t stop even as he reached the building, probably looking like a mad man to to his coworkers as they blatantly stared at his frantic pursuit to get to his desk. Reaching his cubicle near the back he slumped in his chair and held his head in his hands trying to calm himself down.

So did his dream predict the future? How is that possible? God, did he really make that much of a fool of himself?

Sighing, he glanced down at the slip in his hands, unfolding it to read the name scribbled above a cell phone number.

“Wade Wilson.”


	2. Call it quits,  call it destiny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter gets another dream and struggles with how to go about it. Contacting Wade Wilson turns out being way harder than he expects, but it certainly doesn't keep him from seeing him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for any grammar mistakes in this chapter, I barely looked over it. I just really wanted to get the second chapter out there, so I hope its a good one! Comments and feedback are so so welcome, they seriously give me so much inspiration for the chapters and I truly appreciate you guys. Thanks for reading!  
> *Chapter title is from Bruno Major's, "Easily."

Two days later Peter made plans to meet up with MJ at their current favorite cafe. It changes every month, and they have two rules to navigate their options: it can’t be part of a chain, and it can’t be too popular. Sitting down and having a nice chat with an old friend is hard to do when there’s a formidable line running out the door keeping you squished up against the wall.

These two rules have led to some crappy cups of coffee, but it’s all about the experience and having a reason to see each other. Nowadays Peter doesn’t get to see MJ or Ned as much as he used to, with all of them trying to keep their jobs and all, so creating these little traditions help with keeping tabs on one another.

This month’s cafe is on a corner in El Barrio. MJ prefers the cafes in this neighborhood due to the area’s vivid street art and Puerto Rican culture. They’ve had their best cups of coffee in El Barrio. However, this specific cafe is a new favorite for Peter. The exterior is painted over with a woman holding a bouquet of red and blue flowers. The small size of the cafe allows more details to be noticed in the woman’s dress and face. Her eyes are closed and her head is tilted skywards, the bouquet is held endearingly to her chest, the ruffles in her white dress seem to flow along her body, as if she is swaying in the wind. Peter isn’t as educated in the arts as MJ is, but this wall painting always draws his attention. It’s grace, and love. It’s quaint, and vibrant.

He placed his hand against one of the open red flowers, instantly smelling a fragrance of coffee beans. Today he stared at the painting a little longer than he usually does.

The sign hanging over the red door says “Efímero,” in a nice indigo blue. Peter walked inside and ordered for both himself and MJ as he waited on her in their little corner booth. The interior of the cafe is just as colorful as the outside. The walls are decorated in warm red and cool blue swirls, draping vines hang from ceiling plants, and the red leather booths are fit for two people to sit across from one another.

Usually these meetings bring Peter relaxation and relief from his bills and work. Except for today. Today he feels like ranting. No matter how much he tries to stop thinking about Wade Wilson, he just can’t. Speaking about it to any of his co-workers is out of question, and calling Ned up to talk about it doesn’t feel right. It’s too much to explain in full detail over the phone, and Ned might freak out as much as Peter. Calling Wade up is _definitely_ out of question. That leaves MJ, he knows he can rely on her to take it all at face value and call him out on his overthinking.  

Right as the food arrived MJ walked in wearing her usual attire of jeans, a white turtleneck, and a black denim jacket. A faint taste of salted caramel lingered on Peter’s tongue as she sat down and glared at Peter’s sweater.

“Come on man, it’s getting pretty cold out. Put on a jacket before you get sick.”

He laughed, “Like your denim jacket is doing all that much?” He lifted up his cup of the house roast as he spoke. MJ just shrugged and looked down at her plate of pan de mallorca. She briefly smiled before taking a big bite out of the powdered roll. With a moan she leaned back in the booth and seemed to really be savoring the moment.  

“I just love this place. The food is great, the plates and cups are sick, and the coffee is some of the best we’ve had in months. Truly a gem, I mean do we have to switch it up so soon?”

She was right, in the wintertime Efíermo serves their coffee in elaborate and bright mugs, bringing some light into New York’s dreary season. She rolled her eyes as Peter took a bite out of his own roll and shook his head. “We gotta stick to the tradition. But I will agree I really like this place. Maybe we can come back another month.”

Peter paused, “Speaking of new cafes… I have some questions for you. Is it possible to see a place you’ve never been to before in your dreams? Like a cafe you’ve never been to before?”

MJ frowned a bit, “I know that your subconscious can pick apart places you’ve seen in the past to create places that feel like they are new, but actually are not. Why?”

He ignored her question, “Can that happen with people too? Like can you see a face just passing on the street and you may forget but your subconscious doesn’t, and then dream about them?”

MJ polished off her roll and then looked back at him, “Yes it can. Why all of these questions about dreams, did something happen?”

Peter sighed and then explained all of the events leading up to getting Wade’s number. When he was done MJ had a frown of contemplation on her face.

“I… don’t really know about that one. I’ve never heard of that happening before. I mean, predicting the future? That’s a little out there.”

“I know. It… it’s just I can’t figure it out. I mean everything was _exactly_ the same except for a few minor details. He touched my chin instead of grabbing my shoulder and I said some different things to him since I knew it was going to happen the second time, but those are the only things that weren’t the same. I mean I _felt_ everything. It was cool in the shop, the coffee in my hand was warm, and when I saw Wade I could _feel_ how my senses reacted to him. Just like in real life.”

MJ nodded and scratched at her neck, “Okay, okay so let’s say that you had a prophetic dream. Did it happen again since then?”

Peter shook his head, “No. Only that one time.”

“Then I guess wait until you have another one? I agree it would be incredibly coincidental for everything to happen exactly like your dream. If you have another one let me know.” MJ smiled comforting at him over her mug, “I don’t think your crazy, by the way. I got you.”

Peter finished off his coffee and smiled back at her, “I know you don’t think I’m crazy, and you’ll be the first person I tell.”

He then giggled a bit and gave her a mischievous smile, “Just like how I will be the first person to tell you that you have some powdered sugar on your nose.”

MJ laughed through her surprise and quickly wiped at her nose.

“So what’s this cafe called anyway?”

Peter looked down in embarrassment, “I, uh, I don’t know.”

She gave him her signature deadpan look, “Seriously? You were in the same cafe _twice_ and you still didn’t catch its name? Honestly only you can do something like that.”

Peter could feel his ears start to redden, “I know, I _know_ okay! It all happened so fast MJ, I was in shock. I know where it is though! It’s actually pretty close to my apartment complex.”

With one last sip from her mug she looked at Peter over it’s brim, “Well it looks like we know where to go next.”

⧫ ⧫ ⧫

That night Peter laid in bed staring up at his ceiling, wide awake. Right after meeting up with MJ he bought some melatonin pills from the convenience store, fully knowing that he was going to struggle with sleep when all he could do was think about the incident.

That’s exactly what happened.

Tucking his navy blue duvet in between his legs, he snuggled his face right back against his pillow, comforting himself with the lavender scent it brings. Lavender always used to work on him -combined with the stress of work- so he’s never had many problems with sleeping. Except for now. After two days and two nights of sleepless consideration, Peter has formulated the exact way Wade Wilson has an effect on him.

The faint, _very_ faint scent of gunpowder seemed to sneak up on Peter, sending chills down his spine. It’s a distinct spicy and raw scent. It makes him feel a sense of danger, except it’s different from the usual bad guys he meets. No matter who it is, when Peter is face to face with an enemy he gets a burning sensation right in between his eyes. It feels like when water accidentally gets up your nose, just not as intense. It’s different from his spidey sense, which is more of an electric yellow, and it only occurs when Peter is physically up against someone.

So no, Wade Wilson is not exactly a bad guy from what he could tell, it just feels like there’s more than meets the eye with him. _Okay, thinking about this is definitely not going to help me sleep._

That’s right, the pine. It’s a sharp sweetness: comforting but with an edge to it. That’s the scent that had Peter locked in place. It held him so softly yet firmly in position, unable to look away as Wade held onto Peter’s chin. Pine is a scent you want to seek out, same with Wade Wilson. Yet the pine isn’t what entranced him, it was those _eyes._ Staring back at him with such intensity and warmth… even as coffee dripped off his hoodie. That’s what did it for him. Soon after Peter drifted off to sleep thinking of amber and pine.

 

It’s dark. He can see that he is in an alley, standing next to a dumpster. Looking up at the sky, he noticed that the moon is high up past the skyline, meaning it must be well into the night.

He patted himself and saw that he was wearing dark jeans, a black windbreaker, and one of his nice v-neck sweaters. This time he knows that its a dream, but he still wanted to test something. Peter took a breath and felt the brick wall next to him, rubbing it’s rough surface with his finger tips. Even knowing that it’s a dream, it still confuses him that the brick wall is rough and the air against his skin is brisk. Having a lucid dream is one thing, but being able to really touch something? To feel it with full certainty, knowing that what he is touching is fully outside of his mind’s subconscious? That’s weirder than the radioactive spider.

Walking out into the streets, he glanced over to see a bar right next to him. A glowing white sign in the window said, “The Tipsy Elephant,” and a wooden sign hanging above the door had an African elephant carved into it. Without really knowing what else to do, he walked into the bar.

The inside’s got a theme of dim yellow lighting and dark wood. The bar has a screen behind the shelves of liquor with a yellow hue emitting behind it, and the row of barstools had a handful of people sitting on them. Near the other side of the bar there’s some black leather booths on the edges and tables in the middle, and a little stage in the very back…

… and sitting at one of the bar stools with his hood pulled over his head is Wade Wilson.  He’s wearing a black hoodie-sweater with a hunter green jacket over it and has a martini in one hand. By chance he looked up and they locked eyes. Right as Wade’s mouth started to lift up into a smile the rush of sensation flooded back to him…

… and that’s exactly when he woke up.

Gasping and sitting upright, Peter glanced at his clock to see it’s nine in the morning. It’s also Saturday. Meaning he can go back to sleep and waste away the day just like every other Saturday he’s had in the past, or mull over the fact that he had yet another prophetic dream.

Peter chose the latter option.

_So, I had another prophetic dream. That’s okay, it just gives me more to go off of. Except I don’t know how the hell to meet up with Wade or how that even happens. All I know is that it was at night, but I don’t even know which night in the future that will happen. Is it going to happen tonight? My other dream predicted the very next morning, so maybe it only works for the near future? So does that mean I should contact Wade?_

He looked over at the slip of paper sitting on his bedside table. Picking it up, he rubbed a finger over it’s worn lines, caused by Peter unfolding and refolding it about fifty times a day. Taking a breath, he placed Wade’s number into his contacts before starting a new message. His fingers hovered over the screen as he contemplated what exactly to say.

_Hey Wade! Wanna grab a drink tonight!_

_No. That’s too forward._

_Hey Wade. I apologize for not contacting you in the past few days. If you’re available, would you like to join me for drinks tonight? If tonights no good, raincheck?_

_Gross. You sound like an adult! You also used periods??? He’s gonna think you hate him!_

_Hey Wade!! Turns out I keep dreaming about you and my dreams are telling me to grab a drink with you! So how about tonight? I just can’t stop thinking about you!_

_Wow. That’s a definite way to scare a guy off. How the hell did you even think of that one Parker?_

Peter rapidly untyped the message before throwing himself face first into his pillow and letting out a scream. Looking back at his phone, he noticed that he just spent an hour mulling over a single text message. He let out a loud frustrated grunt before getting out of bed. That’s when he heard a fist pound into the wall next to his bed.

“Hey buddy! Just because you’re having problems getting it up doesn’t mean we need to know about it! If you’re gonna touch yourself, keep it to yourself! The walls are too thin for that shit!”

Peter quickly got over his shock to yell back, “Y-You got it wrong! I’m just having a crisis-wait no not that kind of crisis I’m very healthy, I mean I’m just having an existential crisis! Okay?!”

There was a long pause before the voice spoke again, “Yeah okay I get that.”

Red faced, Peter threw on his suit as he decided that it’s time to patrol. In minutes he was swinging over the streets of New York. It turns out patrolling was a good decision, a lot of people needed help today. He stopped a robbery, chased down a couple muggers, berated a man who cat-called a woman walking down the street, and took countless pictures with kids.

All in a day’s work.

By the time he finally caught a break on a rooftop, eating a sandwich, the sun was setting. Peter held his phone in the hand not holding a sandwich and stared at Wade’s contact. He still hasn’t texted him. By this time the guy probably already has plans. It would be rude to text now and expect anything to happen.

With that excuse in mind, he pocketed the phone, finished the sandwich, and swung back in his home’s direction.

Back at home, he sat down at his desk and worked on one of the articles due next Monday. He got in a few hours of work before glancing out his balcony window. It’s now completely dark outside, and the moon was beginning to reach above the skyline.

Tapping his fingers against his desk, Peter decided to take a risk. He dressed in the same outfit he had on in the dream and pulled out his phone to pull up the bar’s location. Right before walking out the door, he paused and made one last minute decision.

He threw off his clothes to put on his suit underneath them, and traded out the v-neck for a white turtleneck to hid the suit. You never know when Spider-Man is going to be needed. He shoved his mask into one of the windbreakers inside pockets and went out the door.

Turns out the bar is all the way near Times Square, so Peter took a cab halfway and walked the rest of the way. There’s no way he was going to pay a full trip. Even so, following the gps probably made Peter look like a tourist, but at the moment he didn’t care as he found the exact alley his dream showed him in. He decided to go down the alley since his spidey sense wasn’t going off or anything, and stood right next to the dumpster.

Looking up at the sky, he noticed that the moon was at the same point as in the dream. Everything was falling into place, except for his outfit. The dumpster also smelled really bad. Peter wrinkled his nose and backed away from the dumpster right as the familiar electric yellow flashed across his vision.

Suddenly on high alert, he was just about to put his back against the wall in defense when he felt a body press right up against him from behind. There’s that familiar burning feeling between his eyes. Right as he was about to jump away he felt a sharp pinch against his throat.

A knife.

Now Peter has a lovely thing called a healing factor, but he’s pretty sure he would bleed out before the huge slash right up on his jugular closed up. He’s just going to have to wait for his opening.

The man leaned in and whispered in Peter’s ear, “I’ll make this clear and quick. If you follow what I say we both get to leave this alley, okay? You look like a smart guy, like you can follow instructions. Now slowly raise your hands when I count to three. One, two, three.”

Peter began to slowly raise his hands as the man kept the knife against his throat and one hand began to pat him down for his wallet. Well jokes on him. Peter never has money. The man started at Peter’s back pockets. He definitely stayed way too long patting down his back pockets before moving on to his windbreaker. He patted on his left side before moving to the right.

That’s when Peter started to panic. His mask was in that pocket. If the man reaches it, he's going to pull it out and if he pulls it out he's going to know Peter is Spider-Man and if he knows Peter is Spider-Man he would tell everyone in prison once Peter finds his moment and puts this man’s ass in jail and the only way to keep the guy quiet is to kill him and Peter doesn’t kill and he hasn’t found the opening yet to beat this guy up and _oh my god I’m going to die because I followed my dreams. What kind of messed up Disney shit is this._

Right as the man’s hand reached for the pocket he heard a loud thud and a snap. The man behind him yelled in shock before he felt the man get thrown off his back. Peter gasped  as his throat was finally let up on and spun around to see… Wade?

The rush he gets from seeing Wade was so relieving he almost felt like crying. As he breathed in the faint gunpowder and pine he looked over to see that Wade had the man on the ground with a tight hand on his wrist, the one holding the knife. The hand was bent at an awkward angle, and the man was wailing in pain as Wade relentlessly held his grip. His other hand was against the man’s throat, making the wails come out as choked sobs.

It was a terrible sight, one that would have Peter sick, but Wade’s comforting presence held him together.

Peter stared in shock and tried to speak a few times before finding his voice, “Wade.”

He couldn’t hear him, he just kept his grip on the man and seemed to be lowly speaking to him. Peter staggered over to them, stress still running through his veins and called out to Wade again.

“Wade stop! Stop it please!”

Wade paused as Peter’s voice finally registered, and quickly knocked the man upside the head, knocking him out cold. He stood still for a moment, while Peter tried to breath in as much of the pine as possible, holding onto the feeling of pressure that’s reassuringly against his chest, and then Wade turned to Peter and gave him an out of place smile.

“Come around here often?”

What the hell. Peter doesn’t know if it’s because of the stress leaving his body or because of what Wade said but all of a sudden he started laughing his ass off. Then Wade was laughing with him. He walked over to Peter and lightly placed a hand on his shoulder, “Hey, are you okay? I know that was a scary situation to be in, and I’m sorry for not getting here sooner.”

Peter smiled and made sure to give Wade a strong face, “Yeah. I had that under control, I promise. But thanks for that, I don’t know what I would do if I had to kill him or something.” Peter laughed again, probably getting high off of being so close to Wade and the fact that he doesn’t have to question his morals anymore. Wade laughed with him again, yet as he spoke he looked off to the side, as if to spare Peter’s feelings from the obvious look of doubt he could see on Wade’s face.

“Haha, yeah. That would be bad. Murder is bad, glad I came in at the right time.” Peter let out the kind of sigh people usually let out after having a good laugh and looked at the man on the ground. “He is alive, right?” Wade glanced down at the man unconcernedly, “Yeah, yeah. He’s alive. Don’t worry I know how to deal with this.” He took out a bedazzled Hello Kitty flip phone out of his pocket and held up a finger for Peter to wait. After a few moments he could hear a faint, ‘what the fuck do you want,’ before he began talking.

“Hey, need a favor. Down on the alley between the Tipsy Elephant and one of those knock off teen clothing stores. Yeah, the usual. Alright bye I love you.” With one last final, ‘fuck off,’ Wade flipped the phone shut with a satisfying snap.

“Okay, I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for a drink so how about we grab one over at that bar conveniently placed right next to us and you can explain to me why you didn’t contact me?” He finished the question with what Peter could assume was a raised brow.

Peter shuffled his feet a bit, “Well to be honest, I didn’t know what to say. I would love to grab a drink-but wait, are you planning on throwing that dude into the Hudson River or something? Because I’m pretty sure you just pulled out a bedazzled trap phone and made some plans that don’t involve the authorities.” Wade simply gave Peter a fake cold stare, “That’s a lot of questions coming from a guy I don’t even know the name of. So how about telling me you’re name baby boy?”

Peter tried not to let it show how much he enjoys being called that and held out his hand in an offer to shake, “Peter Parker. Sorry for always causing you trouble.” He answered with a little mischievous smile. Wade seemed to really like that as he grasped Peter’s hand and roughly shook it, “Oh don’t worry Peter, you’re definitely the kind of trouble I enjoy.” He had a faint smirk on his lips as he turned the hand shake into a hand hold, and began tugging Peter out of the alley.

Once back on the streets he released his hold to grasp Peter by the shoulders while sternly looking him in the face.

“I’m going to be blunt here. I want to buy you a drink Peter Parker, but I will pay for a cab for you to get home if that’s not what you want. I have some time to kill and a lot of questions to ask you, however, if you are uncomfortable with any of that please walk away now.”

Things are coming together. Looking down at Wade’s outfit, he noticed that it’s the same one as in the dream, and looking over Wade’s shoulder he could see that the bar looks exactly like the one from his dream, at least on the outside. So then if that was a prophetic dream, why did the mugging happen? How did Wade know where he was? How the hell is he so good at subduing muggers and why the hell does he have a trap phone?

Peter stopped his train of thought and looked up at Wade, who was beginning to look a little nervous with how long it’s taking Peter to respond, so Peter placed a hand reassuringly onto Wade’s chest and smiled right at him.

“Grabbing a drink sounds lovely. As long as you tell me how you knew where to find me and where that guy is going to end up.” Usually when these things happen he’s in his Spider-Man suit, so he doesn’t have to stick around for the police, he can just have someone call them up and leave the culprit webbed to the spot. So this may be more complicated. Wade smiled back at Peter, “Of course, I don’t want you to think I’m a stalker or anything. In exchange you can tell me a little more about yourself.” He threw an arm around Peter’s shoulders and led him inside the bar.

Walking inside, Wade guided Peter over to one of the circular booths near the back. Another difference from the dream. As they reached the booth Peter whipped his head in every direction, searching to see if he could recognize the people in the room from his dream. From what he could see, everything else was the same. Sitting next to Wade, he finally looked over at him to see that he was intently looking at Peter’s face.

“You know, every time I look over at you, you seem to be really lost in thought. That’s why you got targeted by a mugger, you looked like a tourist. Walking around staring at your phone, and then going straight into a _dark alley._ That greasy bastard was basically skipping in glee as he followed you. I gotta say, even I was surprised by that move. Are you not from New York?”

Before Peter could respond a tiny blonde waitress came to their table, “Hey guys, hope everyone is having a good night. Just a reminder tonight’s happy hour is at midnight so drinks are half off. What can I get you two?”

“Can I get a martini with equal parts dry and sweet vermouth, and Aviation gin,” Wade looked at Peter, “Do you like martini’s?”

To be fair, Peter likes any type of alcohol, but after seeing Wade smoothly order a martini with absolute ease, there’s no way he can get a lame beer. He nodded and with that Wade ordered for the both of them. Once the waitress left Wade turned back to Peter in expectation.

“I’m from Queens. I’m usually on top of things, you just seem to catch me in my worst moments. What about you, where are you from?” Wade swiftly answered as the martini’s were placed in front of them, “Canada. A really lovely place you should see it sometime.”

Both sipped at their martini’s before Peter gave Wade a quizzical glance, “So you said you were gonna explain why you were following me?” Wade gave one look at the people near the bar before sliding closer to Peter until they were touching thighs. He then leaned even closer to Peter, sending swirls of green and pine and _pressure_ throughout his body. “I had some business around here to do, but after finishing up I noticed you walking down the street. Like I said before, you were oblivious to what was happening and as soon as I saw the guy following you I just had to make sure you were okay. Even if I didn’t get a call back.” He finished by smugly sipping at his martini, knowing that what he’s doing is making Peter feel guilty.

Peter fiddled with his hands a bit, “Okay, okay I get it. I’m sorry. Everything I typed just sounded dumb and-wait a minute your answer just made things even sketchier I mean what exactly do you do for a living?”

Wade hummed a bit before looking off to the side, “I can’t tell you.”

“What?! You can’t just say ‘business’ and then not explain at all what that means! That totally gives me a right to question it! Like what's happening to the guy right now?! I need to know that he’s going to the authorities.”

“... If you want it that way then yes, I can have him be turned in to the police.” He whipped out the phone again and with another dramatic flip he ringed the same guy back up.

“Hey. Change of plans. I’m going to need you to do the complicated shit. Yeah yeah whatever, it’s not like you had anything better to do. OK bye I love you very very much.” The explicits being spat through the phone were promptly cut off with a snap before he pocketed the phone.

Wade scratched his chin a bit before peering back at him, “Now Peter, would you say that you are an outstanding member of society?”

Peter firmly nodded his head, “Yes.” _I mean I am Spider-Man after all._

Wade’s eyes widened a bit in shock, “Oh wow. No hesitation at all. You didn’t even try to lie. Guess I’ll have to believe you then… even though you were considering murder back there… but okay.” Peter’s ears reddened a bit as he tried explaining himself, “Well you see, uh, it just came across my mind, I mean I would _never_ kill anyone it really goes against my morals but things were getting a little risky and who knows what would have happened-” Wade’s sudden dramatic flop against the leather booth cut Peter off as Wade looked at him in over the top suspicion. He had one hand stroking his chin and the other holding his martini in an elegant way, like he was some kind of connoisseur analyzing a piece of art.

“Hmm I don’t know about that one. You see, every time I meet you something bad happens. First you spill coffee on me, could be considered an act of violence, and then you don’t call me back which could have caused some psychological damages, and _then_ you almost made me witness a murder! Because, you know, you were about to murder that guy.” He was stifling his laughter near the end, clearly teasing Peter.

In retaliation, Peter finished off his martini and looked back at Wade with his best attempt at a tough face.

“You think I couldn’t fight that guy off?”

Wade was smiling hard now, “Oh no, I’m not trying to say you’re weak or anything. That would be very rude of me.” Peter could tell he truly was trying not to be rude, but he also wasn’t buying what Peter was saying. Which really made Peter want to prove himself.

“Alright. I’ll prove it,” he placed his arm on the table in the classic arm wrestling position. With a raised brow he looked over at Wade to see him staring at Peter with shining eyes, clearly enjoying this. He let out a chuckle before giving Peter his hand.

“Careful, I won’t go easy on you. Ready. Go.”

Wade began pushing against him, and he’s definitely strong. However, he lied. He was holding back, but Peter didn’t mind. He can do this all day. Without any struggle he hardly tapped into his super strength and slammed Wade’s hand back into the table.

Wade looked down at his defeated hand, truly puzzled. That’s what had Peter nearly falling to the floor in laughter. He just kept laughing and laughing as Wade raised his hand and ordered two more martinis. When he finally looked back at Peter, he had this expression on his face that Peter can’t really decipher. It’s a look he’s never gotten from someone before. Sometimes MJ gives him one that’s similar to it, like when he tells her a terrible joke.

Yet with Wade, it’s different. This one spread warmth across his chest, and with the added power of alcohol and pressure he gets just from _looking_ at Wade made it feel like he was fully pressed up against him. Wade raised his hand again in challenge, and not missing a beat Peter grasped it.

This time he truly didn’t hold back, and honestly, Peter is really impressed by Wade’s strength. His face was screwed in concentration, and trying to be considerate Peter allowed the struggle to last longer this time. He let his face pinch up to show a sudden burst of power before promptly slamming Wade’s hand into the table again.

 

Now Wade was completely bewildered. He looked over at Peter in awe,

“Well damn! I will now eat my words. Really, how the hell are you so strong? Did you drink a carton of milk every day when you were a kid?! You know what, someone needs to contact the Avengers, you should be recruited.”

Peter nervously laughed, “Yeah you’re telling me.”

Wade just couldn’t stop looking over at him. As more people started to filter into the bar and some no-name band set up their instruments on the tiny stage further in the back, Wade leaned in to speak in Peter’s ear,

“I want to know everything about you.”

That’s how two hours and way too many drinks later Peter was leaning up against Wade laughing about the time Ned got way too drunk at a house party, and with a moment of inspiration, charged at full speed at a foldable table. Thoroughly breaking it in half.

Yeah they had to bolt out of there as the guy who owned the place stood on his front lawn trying to nail them with some glass beer bottles.

As the laughter started dying out Peter glanced up at Wade’s eyes, crinkled from genuinely smiling. He glanced at Peter at the exact same time, locking him in place. Wade drew in a shaky breath and whispered so softly to Peter he almost didn’t hear him,

“How the hell are you still here? I should have scared you off forever ago.” The laughter was dying from his eyes, leaving a confused and almost sober face in its place. Peter tried not to choke on his words as he whispered back,

“Why would I leave?”

Wade vaguely gestured to his face, “Well besides the fact that I have the facial traits of a mauled avocado, I have hinted many times that I am not the most upstanding guy. Definitely not suited for an angel who is incredibly strong and can _almost_ murder a guy if his morals didn’t get in the way of it.”

Peter simply leaned closer to Wade, almost bridging the gap between the two.

“Did I mention to you that I pay close attention to details?”  

Wade merely shook his head and muttered, “Yeah well not when it comes to certain deadly situations like getting mugged or looking _at_ certain ugly mugs.”

“Oh come on I know it just happened but you’ve _got_ to let that go, okay! I promise I’m not usually like that so stop trying to derail me,” he sighed and ran a tongue over his bottom lip, trying to gather up the courage to say what he wanted to say, and not to notice the way Wade’s eyesight jumped down to his lips at the motion.

“I pay close attention to details when I _want_ to. If you asked me to describe this bar I would say it’s yellow and it smells like whiskey and citrus perfume. Kind of gross but bearable. That band over there is playing Elvis Presley’s, “Suspicious Minds,” out of tune and every time I hear that song I see lime green. No matter what. Now this is going to sounds corny but what I want you to know is that all of what I’m about to say is nothing but the truth,” Peter looked straight at Wade’s blown out eyes and quickly let his words run free, trying to let the bubbly feeling in his body keep the words flowing.

“You’re eyes are so, so intriguing. When I look at them I am reminded of an old tree. Like if I swung a hatchet at that tree and chopped it to the stump, I could look down at that stump and see all of the tree’s rings circling around. I could spend all day studying the rings and counting them up, trying to figure out how many hundreds of years that tree lived before I chopped it down like the upstanding citizen I am. That’s what your eyes look like, Wade Wilson. They are a beautiful brown with endless gold rings circling around them. Every time I look at your eyes I smell pine and gunpowder. You look like you have a lot of experience, and I want to know everything about you too.”

There’s that indescribable face again. Wade looked like he was seconds away from passionately kissing Peter. Which would have been great if he did, but instead he gave Peter the most stunning smile he may have ever seen,

“If you wanted to know how old I am, you could have just asked. I’m twenty eight,” He then pushed away the half-full martini glass away from Peter’s reach, “also I’m cutting you off.”

They stared at each other again in that way that keeps Peter from looking away, and before he knew it they were both laughing like old friends again…

… and then Wade Wilson did something that absolutely sent shocks up Peter’s spine. He brushed back the hair from Peter’s forehead, and leaned in to lightly kiss him on the forehead, effectively melting Peter into the seat. He paused for a moment, as if contemplating his next actions before moving back to smile at Peter,

 

“So when do I get to see you again, Peter Parker?”


End file.
